


The End

by sillyboyblue



Category: The Hitcher (1986)
Genre: Death Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 05:58:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9478592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sillyboyblue/pseuds/sillyboyblue
Summary: It's over.





	

It hurt sometimes. A dull ache of something that used to be there and is not anymore.

It happened on a cold night. One moment he was there and the other he was gone.

He had the scars to remember. Evidence of his crimes. Proof that he survived. But time, time was the greatest enemy, and this one he could not defeat.

The truth was that he had loved him. He realized that despite his absence, he would always love him. That was the universal truth.

It was a cold, cold night, when he closed his eyes for the last time. He did not even close them himself -- his husband had to do it for him.

They were never properly married but they started calling each other husbands and so they pretended that they were. They even had rings.

The wind was howling outside and it was dead silent in their home. He held his hand the entire time, until their home became only his.

They never thought they would die of old age. They imagined thousands of scenarios in which they would be arrested and they would escape. It amused them to compare their versions.

He told him his favorites as he lay dying in their bed. About how he had insisted on sparing the dog. Little details. He thought he saw a smile.

It was snowing when he died. It happened naturally. His last breath escaped his body and the first snowflakes began to fall.

How long did they have together ? Thirty-five years ? Not quite long enough. Forever would not be long enough for them. Their love would last an eternity.

He buried him in the backyard, under his favorite tree, next to the graves of their two beautiful dogs. He was all alone in the world and he belonged with them. But he knew that his time had yet to come. He buried him with his favorite knife. 

He carved a piece of wood and planted it into the ground as a headstone. He did not weep but he knew that eventually he would.

This sort of things comes in waves. It builds up, hits you, moves back and hits you again, and again, and again, and again... He knew he would cry.

He did not have the heart to put flowers on the grave yet. They would freeze in the snow. Besides, he did not have any flowers.

The grave was beautiful. The way he would have wanted it. No arrogant presentation, no outrageous display. A simple, rudimentary grave. The one he wished for.

For an instant he thought he saw him running in the yard, playing fetch with their dogs. But it could not be. He had not ran for nearly ten years.

He gave one last look at the grave and at the headstone. It read :

"John Ryder  
1944-2021  
Hitcher and Husband"

It had been twenty-five years and he could feel himself fading away as he remembered this fateful night, sixty years before. What would have happened if he had not picked him up ?

He was lying on the same bed as the one on which he died. He waited, head thrown back and throat exposed, for Death to release him.

He died before the police arrived.

"This is Jim Halsey. H-A-L-S-E-Y. I have killed and participated in the killing of over fifty people between 1986 and today. John Ryder, R-Y-D-E-R, is dead."

**Author's Note:**

> I did not want to publish this at first because I thought it was too sad. The pronouns are meant to confuse you about who's who.


End file.
